


Love Me Yesterday

by cal1brations



Category: Tiger & Bunny
Genre: Barnaby is a general trainwreck of a guy, Canon Compliant, Canon Related, Drinking to Cope, Getting Together, Loneliness, M/M, Requited Love, Retirement
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-22
Updated: 2014-12-22
Packaged: 2018-03-02 20:16:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2824823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cal1brations/pseuds/cal1brations
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>That one where a sudden, early retirement leaves Barnaby dazed, confused, and hopelessly in love with a guy a hundred miles away, living a life Barnaby <i>knows</i> he himself is not supposed to be a part of.</p><p> Set in the year Tiger & Barnaby retire before the end of the series.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Love Me Yesterday

**Author's Note:**

> Wanted to do a story about Barnaby's part in his 10 minute retirement. This is one of the longest things I've written and it's about a sad, gay twenty-five year old with a case of the dokis for Kotetsu. Incredible.
> 
> Alternate title would be along the lines of: "Tiger & Bunny: The Idiots Who Can't Even Get Falling In Love Correct".

Retiring is not _nearly_ as great as everyone seems to think it is. If Barnaby had a normal job, a normal _life_ , like the three-fourths of the population that isn’t affiliated with NEXT powers of any sort, he supposes he’d be able to appreciate the whole “retiring” thing a bit more than he currently does.

But he is Barnaby Brooks Jr., previous King of Heroes, sated Revenge Boy, and now lonely twenty-five year old bachelor living a daily routine that includes: going to bed in the early hours of morning and proceeding to sleep for roughly twelve to fifteen hours, pick at food he is not often hungry for, and think.

Well. “Think” is a broad term for it. The better word for what Barnaby throws himself into ventures more into the category of _sulking_. He knows it’s sulking because Barnaby is a familiar subject to the hobby-- if it could be called such. Then again, Barnaby doesn’t really do much these days, so perhaps it _should_ count as a hobby, to keep the self-delusion that he really does have things to do when he turns down visitors and guests and anything else that doesn’t follow his newest standard of isolation.

He “thinks” about plenty of things. Things that he doesn’t know (read: about most of his life up to this point, thanks to implanted, false memories), things he knows for sure, things that are best left unthought but, when you’re spending most of your time with yourself, well, there’s a lot of things that get dug up in the process.

Kotetsu is on his mind a lot. Even months into his retirement, when winter has already melted way to bring the first blossoms of spring, he’s still remembering everything. He even writes out some of the things that do not want to leave his mind, in hopes that physically purging them from his body will eliminate the thoughts, but they remain. The weight of Kotetsu in his arms. The glassy look of his eyes while he whispered the most painful thing Barnaby can even remember. _Bunny, you have really long eyelashes_ , should not be a statement that makes Barnaby press his hands to his face and weep from the overflow of emotion it brings back to him, but it does, every time his brain conjures up the scene behind his eyelids.

It’s right about when spring becomes too hot and humid to be called spring that Barnaby finally understands why he keeps thinking about these things, about Kotetsu, about everything. He’s not broken or traumatized (not because of _this_ , anyway)-- it’s such an easy explanation, but the hardest one to come to terms with. He ignores it as the summer festivals start up in the city; he attends the first few with the hope that cheap food and fireworks will keep his mind from pushing the inevitable thought upon him.

Watching the dotted explosions of fireworks in the sky reminds Barnaby of hugging Kotetsu goodbye the night before he set off for his home. The feeling of being so close to him, with Kotetsu’s smiling into Barnaby’s shoulder as he tells him to call every now and then-- they’re maybe not partners at work anymore, but Kotetsu is still his friend, right? He’d given Barnaby a bit of a squeeze in the last few seconds of their too-long hug, wrapping his arms far too tight around Barnaby and making a soft noise that could have qualified for a sob, but when they parted, Barnaby could only see Kotetsu’s wide grin.

Barnaby watches the rest of the fireworks display in dulled horror with himself; he cannot escape his fate, and while his fate is not the scary part, it’s what to do with this _knowledge_ of it that Barnaby doesn’t _quite_ know how to come to terms with.

He watches the fireworks every night they’re there from that evening and onward-- he wishes for a premonition, of sorts, from the blasts of colors cascading down over the harbor. Alas, such a thing does not come from the display, but it does give Barnaby to think and rethink (and rethink and rethink and _rethink_ ) just what he’s come to understand about himself.

But it’s a hard thing to understand.

Love always is.

* * *

He truly, honestly thinks about calling.

His phone is always nearby-- Barnaby’s, that is. It would be literally of zero effort on his part to call. Even if only to catch up. Even if just to hear that Kotetsu is enjoying his new life; Barnaby knew how excited he was to be home with Kaede to help her with her newfound ability, and he could never be as selfish as to wish Kotetsu didn’t leave.

But every time he tries, scrolls down to Kotetsu’s name in his phone, with the photo ID of a tiger that is the stupidest thing Barnaby has ever seen, but it’s perfectly Kotetsu enough to make sense. The process always ends there, though, with Barnaby’s shaking hand too hesitant to hit “call” and instead flipping his phone shut and throwing it aside, listening to the lonely clatter of it tumbling away from him. It is only in that moment that he can escape what needs to be done, and it never lasts long. Because he always picks up his phone a few seconds later, setting it aside with a loud sigh as he runs his hands through his hair, _so stupid_.

It’s not only the phone calls that have Barnaby frozen, though. He’s tried to send texts, e-mails, _anything_ , all with the same outcome. He finishes typing them out, reads them over, finds all the things wrong with them, realizes he can’t send them, and trashes them, so frustrated and angry with his social ineptitude, with himself. Even being partners with Kotetsu for years can’t change the fact that sometimes, honestly, Barnaby is the _worst_ with saying what he needs to say.

_“Hi, Kotetsu.”_

That’s not nearly what he wants to say. That’s not even how he would great Kotetsu if they were to speak again.

_“I need to speak with you.”_

Dramatic as ever. Kotetsu would probably have an aneurysm reading that, nonetheless, have to suffer through Barnaby’s bumbling and most likely crying. He doesn’t want to give an old man grief when he’s supposed to be enjoying his time with his daughter-- his _daughter_ for Christ’s sake.

Thus, the process goes. Sometimes it’s blocks of text he deletes, sometimes he deletes it right after the first word. Barnaby wishes there was a right way to say _I really, really miss you. I’m so lost when you’re not here. I don’t have anything to distract me from these ugly thoughts in my head. Do you hate me? Would you care about us talking again as much as I do? I feel incomplete when you’re not here to help me put the pieces of myself together._

But there just isn’t a right way to say any of that-- it’s too much. It’s stupid to be worrying about, anyway (right?).

Because this is Barnaby Brooks Jr. here. He’s taken on hundreds of criminals. He’s faced death in multiple situations. He has seen the extensive depths of rock bottom and, better yet, has had a glimpse of Cloud Nine and all its riches.

He still can’t make the call. He can’t reach out.

Barnaby feels as trapped as he ever did, struggling with the loss of his career and close partner and--

He vows to himself to get outside more, to find _anything_ to do. Just to keep his mind from picking the situation into even more of a mess than it is; leave it to Barnaby to kick his problem under the rug, to fester and rot there until the rug needs to be replaced entirely due to neglect and lack of care.

Maybe Kotetsu rubbed off on him more than he’d initially come to think.

* * *

 

He starts training again. Maybe not for anything in particular-- because it’s not like he’s gotten _horribly_ out of shape in his downtime-- but it keeps him from getting stir-crazy in his apartment all day. He works himself until he can’t lifts his arms over his head and his legs ache enough to make him stumble when he walks out to his car, the mark of a good workout, something to keep him occupied with.

It feels wrong when he steps on the treadmill and Kotetsu isn’t there lounging beside him, chatting away.

* * *

 

Summer turns to fall as it always does. This year is significantly colder than the previous few. Barnaby sends Kotetsu a present in the last weeks of summer for his birthday, but he doesn’t mark his name on the package, nor anywhere inside of it. The gift is some minor, bronze-painted  Mr. Legend figurine he saw in a gift shop that was painfully tacky, the outside windows plastered in towels and flags and stickers of the infamous “I  ♥ SB” merch that tourists go _nuts_ over.

But Barnaby remembers the basics of his partner. Plus, hey, Kotetsu’s love for the guy was not something so personal-- he’d mentioned it several times when the two of them were partners, in several interviews even. An impersonal gift like that could be sent by _anyone_ , really. Maybe just a long-time fan, sad to see Kotetsu’s retirement was turning out to be a more permanent thing than hoped for.

Barnaby still doesn’t contact him. Not yet. Too soon.

* * *

October passes quietly, frigidly. He receives a package at the end of the month from Kotetsu that’s packed with a bottle of shochu-- not Barnaby’s choice liquor, but he knows Kotetsu enjoys the stuff like none other. The label on it reads Kaburagi, and the sentimental value of the gift skyrockets in the millisecond it takes for Barnaby to read the name.

Kotetsu, unlike Barnaby, also includes a small note, wishing him well for the rest of the season, and with his new year, scribbled smiley face with signature cat beards included. There’s also a series of numbers jotted down at the bottom of the little paper, almost illegible with how tiny Kotetsu’s writing is, but he makes the digits out to be Kotetsu’s phone number.

He feels too conflicted to pick up the phone right just yet.

Instead, he fetches a tumbler from his kitchen and pours himself a drink. The stuff is strong in a way Barnaby could only imagine Kotetsu describing as “costly” and that makes him smile a little around the lip of his drink. He takes tiny sips as he moves to set the box aside, frowning when it rattles-- it isn’t empty.

Barnaby reaches down inside to pull out a handful of little, individually wrapped candies. _Of course_ Kotetsu couldn’t miss a chance to extort Barnaby’s festive birthday. He spends ten minutes picking candy out of the newspaper shreddings Kotetsu has stuffed the box with-- no planning on his part, as always-- before setting the box away near the trash.

And then, he just sits with his drink, nursing it slowly. He cradles the glass in both hands, cupping it as tenderly as he’d cup Kotetsu’s face, staring down at the pale liquid as it catches the dim lighting of the living room--

 _Living room? You don’t have any furniture in here, Bunny! Where’s the_ living _done?_

He downs a bigger sip of his drink then, squeezing his eyes shut as his mind fueled by the vigor of the liquor runs rampant, throwing memories at him. Ones that are definitely real, ones Kotetsu has _made_ real for him in a sea of uncertainty that harshly throws him side to side, rocks him to the point of sickness--

Barnaby pours himself another glass. Then another. The next few glasses begin to blur the more Barnaby drinks, slamming back each one wholeheartedly at this point. He’s not drinking to forget now, he’s drinking to _remember_ , to be granted the drunken illusion that Kotetsu’s not currently a hundred miles away living a life Barnaby _knows_ he is not supposed to be apart of. But he sent a _birthday gift_ for fuck’s sake, the sentimental thing of booze with his name slapped on the label-- how could Barnaby resist such temptation when he’s as alone as he’s ever been? When he’s as in love as he’s ever been?

The night of binge ends when Barnaby passes out in his chair, his glass gracefully rolling from his limp fingers and onto the floor, spilling ice chips over the carpet. In the morning, when Barnaby is hungover and aching in more ways than just from alcohol, he will clean up. He will call Kotetsu. He will fix this. The cycle of… whatever this is, will be stopped.

But he doesn’t call, and he doesn’t fix it. He cleans and cleans, until he’s done cleaning, and then he focuses on brooding once more.

_You’re a fine grade mess without me, Bunny, admit it!_

Let it never be said that Barnaby didn’t try.

* * *

Barnaby takes a shower one evening in mid-December, and it’s an evening he’s not soon going to forget.

He’s standing in his living room in a pair of ugly sweatpants and an old sleep shirt, towel-drying his hair as he watches television. It’s a live Hero TV chase, and while Barnaby does not regularly tune in to the show these days, he does watch it sparingly from time to time, if only to see who’s where at this point in the season.

There’s something about the Second League involved in a breaking news event, cutting away from the current ass-kicking Fire Emblem is dishing out on some robber or something; he wasn’t quite paying full attention. Barnaby adjusts his glasses a little as he tilts his head, toweling his hair gently as he watches… _watches_ …

He drops the towel out of shock. His phone goes off at the same time Barnaby’s brain seems to go into standby. Barnaby takes a moment, shocked, before his body kicks into autopilot, walking over to his cell phone and answering it with the most stunned “Hello?” he has ever muttered in his entire life.

“You’re watching it too I assume?” A familiar voice asks, dry as ever.

Still staring at the television, unable to actually hear the announcer shouting stats on the latest Wild Tiger One Minute action going on, Barnaby slowly says, “I can be on-scene in three; send the transporter to the corner before East Forty-Eighth and Bay,” before he hangs up.

Everything catches back up to real time after that, all at once, and in a matter of seconds, Barnaby finds himself throwing on his clothes in record time, shoving the laces of his boots inside instead of tying them, and sprinting out the door to his car as fast as he can without activating his power.

The hustle and bustle is new to him, after the peacefulness of sitting around in wallow for the past eleven months, but Barnaby is nothing if not able to adapt quickly to his current situation, it’s something he prided himself on as the King of Heroes, way back when.

He drives like a fucking lunatic to get to the crime scene as fast as he humanly can; Kotetsu might try to be law abiding at all times, and Barnaby usually is too, but tonight-- right now-- is a special circumstance.

_And special circumstances require special action, right, Bunny?_

* * *

It’s literally the most unreal feeling to step back into the routine that Barnaby wasn’t sure he’d ever step foot into again an hour ago. But here he is, suiting down with Kotetsu just like old times after they’ve given a million statements, smiled and waved to the cameras for nearly an hour, and stood side-by-side for the first time in a year, an entire _year_ \-- and here they are.

“ _Jeez_!” Kotetsu’s hissing as he slides out of his underarmor, teeth chattering in their unpleasant grimace while he shoves himself into his shirt to button up. “It’s _freezing_ out there-- even in the suits!”

“It’s been cold like this since September,” Barnaby tells him in an even voice. He feels a little stupid talking about something like _the_ _weather_ , when there’s a literal _world_ of other things they could be discussing. How have you been? Did you get sick of your family? Did you miss me? Are you here to stay?

But Barnaby does not mention any of these things, not right now, anyway. Kotetsu probably has a lot on his mind as it is, he thinks scathingly to himself as he steps into his pants, doing up his belt with much more focus than he needs for such a simple task. He’s just getting around to pulling his shirt down over his head, untucking his hair from the collar when he catches Kotetsu looking at him with a glance Barnaby isn’t sure what to make of. Pensive? Solemn? Patient?

“You think I could come over?” Kotetsu’s suddenly asking. He takes of his hat, ruffles his hair a little out of habit, and slaps it back on. “I figure--”

“ _Yes_ ,” Barnaby answers too quickly, _shit_ , he knows it’s too quick the second the word falls out of his mouth, but he’s so excited and his heart is fluttering and he feels like how those fireworks over the harbor looked in the summer nights he spent lamenting over his self-induced loneliness. “Yes,” he repeats, a little more in control as he idly brushes his hair back a bit.

Kotetsu, if he notices Barnaby’s fumble, does not say anything. He’s just smiling, this relieved little grin, as he nods, tapping the brim of his cap. “I’ll meet you at your place, partner,” he’s telling him, trotting out of the van with a bit of pep in his step, though Barnaby isn’t sure if he just imagined that little half-hop Kotetsu makes as he sets out to his car.

Barnaby wastes no time in throwing his jacket on before he’s running back out to his own car, sparing Kotetsu a little wave as he watches the man trying to sneak into his car, avoiding the ravenous reporters at all costs.

Surprising, coming from Kotetsu’s lack of media attention for the past seven years, but not _that_ surprising.

* * *

Without much incident (though Kotetsu shows up nearly fifteen minutes later than Barnaby had expected; they must’ve caught him), the two are eventually sitting in Barnaby’s plain living room on the floor together, nursing drinks (beer that _isn’t_ the cheap, pungent shit Kotetsu drops his paycheck on every Thursday night) as they sit in a heavy silence. While they’re still familiar with one another, everything seems like it’s just too much to say, like one sentence might be the straw that breaks the back of this relationship-- whatever _that_ is.

Barnaby has a plethora of things he wants to say, but each time his mouth tries to talk, his hand brings his glass to his mouth instead, and he drinks the feeling to speak away.

“It doesn’t feel like a year,” Kotetsu finally says, fiddling with the bottle in his hands quietly. He doesn’t look to Barnaby, not yet, just keeps his gaze down to the suddenly fascinating beer bottle, stroking his thumbs through the condensation over the brown glass.

“Not at all,” Barnaby agrees. He doesn’t brave a look, either.

But Kotetsu, the leader of their often-awkward dance of a partnership, finally does lift his gaze to Barnaby, watching him with eyes far too deep for any other human being. Barnaby takes his time in meeting his gaze, trailing his eyes up the shape of Kotetsu’s body-- really noting that he’s here, _right here_ \-- before settling on his face.

The glance speaks multitudes.

Barnaby doesn’t have to say what he’s thinking, because the look in Kotetsu’s eyes is enough, _I know. It feels like centuries. It feels like this should all be weird and out of place but it’s not, not for us. We handled this. It’s alright_.

“Did you get sick of the country that fast?” Barnaby offers without looking away from his partner, and when Kotetsu’s lips break into a wide grin at the joke (plain as it may be), Barnaby braves the first smile he’s smiled in probably ten months.

“Aw, Bunny,” Kotetsu’s sighing, sliding up beside him and slinging an arm around Barnaby’s shoulders. “I came back because I missed _you_ , obviously! What am I when I don’t have a grumpy little Bunny hopping alongside me?” He teases in the most annoying of croons, and Barnaby gives Kotetsu’s leg a smack to get him to stop, but not without a little smirk; his moronic sense of humor still hasn’t changed, so that’s good.

“Really, though,” Kotetsu sighs, moving to sit back with his hands braced on the floor behind him, lengthy legs stretching out in front of him, “I jumped the gun, retiring so suddenly like I did. A minute is still a decent amount of time! I guess I was just trying to rip the bandage off as fast as I could--”

“But the wound wasn’t healed when you yanked it off,” Barnaby finishes for him, and Kotetsu looks at him with a little nod. Even with his obscure analogies, Barnaby can _still_ manage to finish his sentences. There has to be something there.

Kotetsu gives him a little nod of acknowledgement. “How’ve you been holding up? You look--”

Barnaby doesn’t want to hear what Kotetsu has to say; he’s not quite sure how he looks at this point, anyway. Probably not on his A game, he can safely assume. “Fine. Retirement was boring.”

“That’s because it’s for old guys,” Kotetsu comments with a grin.

“Like you?”

“ _Agh_! Rude!”

They laugh. Barnaby closes his eyes, enjoying the sound of Kotetsu’s loud chuckles-- a sound that no one has ever been able to replicate. Kotetsu is Kotetsu, tried and true, and Barnaby wonders how he did it the past year, making it through without Kotetsu here to help him gather up the broken pieces of himself while--

Shit. He feels his tears, burning the backs of his eyes. He takes a long moment in sucking in a breath, letting himself calm down. However, he does not do this quietly, apparently, because soon enough, he’s feeling Kotetsu’s warm, large hand smooth over his back, rubbing over the backs of his shoulders and giving the back of Barnaby’s neck a gentle squeeze of reassurance.

“Had a rough time?” Kotetsu offers as Barnaby puts his face in his hands, nodding in agreement. He doesn’t exactly know _why_ he’s crying (except he does, he knows very well, he just doesn’t want to acknowledge the reason), but he definitely does let out a little sob when Kotetsu starts comforting him like that. Comfort is good, great even, especially from Kotetsu, but it’s been a long time since Barnaby has had anyone to help him calm down-- he’s forgotten what it’s like _not_ to be alone with himself.

“Bunny...” Kotetsu starts quietly, slowly scooting closer to his partner. He carefully pulls his other arm around Barnaby, wary that Barnaby might shove him away in favor of brewing in anguish on his own. Except this is apparently what Barnaby wants, because he dives into the embrace, arms snapping tight around Kotetsu’s middle as he turns to fully embrace him, crying quietly into Kotetsu’s shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” Kotetsu begins, but he doesn’t get to say anything else, because Barnaby is violently shaking his head against Kotetsu’s shoulder. Unsure of what else he could say, Kotetsu holds Barnaby close, rubbing his back in slow circles to calm his tears; he feels horrendously guilty that within the first few hours of being back together with his partner, he’s reduced him to tears this easily.

After a long moment, Barnaby finally speaks, his voice soft due to his tears-- which, thankfully, are lessening. “ _I’m_ sorry, Kotetsu,” he whispers, and while he himself knows what those words mean, their velocity, Kotetsu is lost. He turns to look at Barnaby, ask what the hell _he_ could be sorry for, but--

Ah.

Barnaby presses a kiss to Kotetsu’s lips, so ridiculously gentle that he’s trembling, he’s shaking all _over_ , even his lips are trembling against Kotetsu’s warm mouth. It’s nothing over the top, it’s not like Barnaby’s shoving his tongue down Kotetsu’s throat or anything like that-- he’s not some kind of lust-driven freak, after all.

But it’s enough. If Barnaby could understand so much in Kotetsu’s eyes, than _certainly_ Kotetsu can understand as much through the trembling touch of Barnaby’s lips.

No one pulls away at first. Barnaby only pulls back because he has to sniffle, and he doubts Kotetsu wants to bare such close witness to him wiping snot away. Slowly, their lips part then, Barnaby bowing his head a little as he sniffs. Kotetsu is stunningly (unnervingly) silent, and when Barnaby doesn’t hear anything for far too long (really only a few seconds), he clears his throat to explain himself.

“I thought about it a lot,” he explains softly, his eyes glued to Kotetsu’s chest. His hands slide to rest there, and he wonders if the skin beneath his shirt will always be warped, ruined, with what Barnaby did.

But he is not speaking of the injury. Both of them know that much.

“You never called,” Kotetsu reminds him quietly, but the accusation of the statement rings so heavily in Barnaby’s ears, he cringes.

“You didn’t either,” Barnaby tries, but Kotetsu isn’t really smiling (at least, not a happy smile), so Barnaby quickly drops that argument. “I _wanted_ to. I tried so many times-- I didn’t know how. I wasn’t supposed to think about it-- _you_ \-- anymore--”

“I wasn’t supposed to come back,” Kotetsu supplies, and only then does Barnaby look at his face again. He isn’t angry, like Barnaby thought he might be. He’s just wearing a lopsided smile, looking like his quirky, Kotetsu self, brows furrowed together in sympathetic understanding; does he really, though? Could he really understand what Barnaby has struggled along with for the past year?

“Right?”

“...That’s right.”

“But here I am,” Kotetsu shrugs. “And here we are. Doing this… this _thing_ that we do, putting all our pieces together when they fall apart. Well, the kissing part of it is new, but--” He’s flustered. “Y’know.”

Barnaby does know. He knows now that this is not a partnership. This isn’t just a friendship-- he could never treasure a friendship like he cherishes _this_. _This_ is something that Barnaby wants to fight for, like Kotetsu’s always blabbing about when he talks about a cause to fight, a spark, a will. _This_ is not like the revenge he sought before, this looks different, smells different, tastes different; he feels the tug of fate at his finger now, looped with Kotetsu, he can _swear_ he sees the red line between them. He doesn’t know how long or why or when this happened but he knows, Kotetsu knows, so.

Here they are. Kotetsu and Barnaby.

“I’m game,” Kotetsu says suddenly, and it sounds fairly stupid, out of the blue like that. Barnaby makes a face, and when Kotetsu sees it, he grins, leaning closer.

“It could work,” he explains, voice quiet, breath mingling with Barnaby’s. Slowly, their foreheads meet, gently bumping together. “The “chasing you, chasing me” thing gets pretty old after the third year, Bunny.” He moves to cup Barnaby’s face, stroking his cheeks with his thumbs as they sit like that.

"You're deserving of _so_ much more kindness and goodness than you know, Bunny," Kotetsu explains in that soft voice that makes Barnaby both want to lean forward with his interest in every gentle word, and sob from the caring nature of his partner, so loving. “Would you let an old man give you some of that kindness, Bunny?”

There he goes, with those stupidly-loving statements that make Barnaby tear up all over again. He makes a little nod against Kotetsu, into his hands, biting on his lips to keep them from quivering too noticeably. Meddling as he is, Kotetsu knows what Barnaby needs at the end of the day, is always the best equipped to handle him. Barnaby doubts there’s another person on this entire planet that he could feel for the way he feels for Kotetsu, when he strips the matter down to the bone.

This _has_ to be. This is fate.

“I want to,” he whispers, hardly audible. “I want to have that. With you.”

Kotetsu pulls Barnaby in for another hug, nodding as he holds him close. “I want that with you, too,” he’s telling him, kissing Barnaby’s temple, treating him like he’s loved, just as he’s always done for him, and Barnaby clamps his arms back around Kotetsu, nodding in turn.

He’s loved. The words don’t even sound real in his head, even as he repeats them over and over, with increasing delight and amazement and wonder. _I’m loved, I’m loved, I’m_ loved _. He_ wants _to love me. This isn’t a burden. He’s loving me because he truly feels this way. I’m deserving of this._

When he makes a little laugh to himself out of the delight of understanding what this means, it comes out sounding a little more like a sob, which worries Kotetsu a tad. He pulls back a little to see if Barnaby is alright, but Barnaby takes the opportunity to grab his face and kiss him again, all impulse and craving and want in the way he mashes his lips to Kotetsu’s, and he revels in the laugh Kotetsu makes before kissing him back, cradling him by the back of the head as he carries on the kisses, because _he **loves** Barnaby_.

Barnaby squeezes his hand into a fist as he holds Kotetsu tighter, closer. He absolutely swears he can feel the thin thread digging into his finger, tangled all around Kotetsu--

It’s more than enough. This is fulfillment.

Truly inscrutable are the ways people are brought together.

 

 


End file.
